


Leave Behind the Insanity

by killeleanor



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killeleanor/pseuds/killeleanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The words come out through gritted teeth and Peter’s fists clench.  He closes the bathroom door to as he steps out of his pants, leaving an inviting gap between the frame and the wood.  Curt hears water hitting the shower floor, but can only pretend for so long that he doesn’t hear the choked-off sob it stifles.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Basically, Curt blows Peter in the shower.  Set during the first game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Behind the Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Promised I would finish this, like, weeks ago, but deadlines and stuff. Title is from Blake Lewis's Disco in Space because it was playing just now and I can't think of titles to save my life.

Peter groans as he pushes himself through the open window, landing heavily inside the apartment. There isn’t anywhere on his body that doesn’t ache and the blood that has been dripping down his back has started to dry and flake uncomfortably.

“Peter.”

From behind his desk, Curt surveys the younger man, his brow furrowing. He steps forward and approaches him, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter places his own on top of it briefly before shrugging it off, beginning to shed his suit. It’s torn to pieces so he discards it on the floor as he heads for the bathroom.

“Peter, you’re hurt,” Curt gasps as he watches Peter’s retreating back. He walks somewhat stiffly and Curt wonders if it’s due to pain or stress.

“I’m okay, doc. Just a few cuts. Gonna go shower.”

The words come out through gritted teeth and Peter’s fists clench. He closes the bathroom door to as he steps out of his pants, leaving an inviting gap between the frame and the wood. Curt hears water hitting the shower floor, but can only pretend for so long that he doesn’t hear the choked-off sob it stifles.  


It barely takes a second to make a decision.

He hurries towards the bathroom door, pulling off his lab coat and tie as he does. He undoes the buttons on his shirt with practised ease and drops it next to the remnants of Peter’s suit before stepping out of his own pants and pushing the door open. Pulling back the shower curtain slowly to make sure Peter is aware of his presence, he takes in the sight before him. The young man’s head hangs and he faces the wall. Curt is somewhat relieved to see that the majority of the blood swirling down the drain isn’t Peter’s and his wounds aren’t as bad as he’d thought.

“Can I come in?” It’s only polite to ask.

Peter nods, stepping to the side slightly. Curt steps inside, clutching Peter’s shoulder for balance.

“Peter!”

He stumbles backwards slightly as Peter throws his arms around him, pulling their bodies flush together. Curt has a feeling that the wetness on his shoulder isn’t from the shower and rubs up and down Peter’s trembling back.

“Peter, talk to me. What is it?”

Peter shakes his head and Curt pulls him closer, making gentle shushing noises.

“I’m just so tired. They don’t stop coming, doc, and it’s just too much. I’ve lost track of how many hybrids I’ve taken care of and I keep almost dying and everyone expects me to save the day and I can’t stand to disappoint anyone. They won’t stop, Curt.”

“Sssshh. Not much longer now. I’m almost done with the antidote.” He lifts his hand to the back of Peter’s neck and strokes the fine hairs there, making him shudder and relax the slightest bit.

“I know. Curt, I’m so sorry, breaking down like this, I know you’re doing your best, I just thought I’d be able to cope better—”

“I know what you need.” Curt pitches his voice low as he whispers into Peter’s ear.

He trails his lips to the younger man’s neck, pressing kisses lower and lower.

“You don’t have to—”

A moan from his own lips cuts him off as Curt moves his hand to Peter’s dick, coaxing it to hardness. After several strokes and several bruises sucked into Peter’s collarbone, Curt grips onto his hip and lowers himself to his knees. Peter inhales in anticipation.

His mind goes blank when Curt’s lips touch the head of his dick. He barely remembers how to stand up when his entire length is enveloped in a wet warmth; Curt isn’t messing around. Peter brings one of his own hands to his mouth to stifle the sounds that come out, slamming his head on the tiles as he tosses it backwards when Curt flicks his tongue just so. The older man pulls back in concern but Peter just shakes his head and pets at Curt’s hair.

“Peter,” Curt breathes before returning his mouth to Peter’s member.

He uses his hand on the shaft this time, his grip just on the verge of being too tight but it’s so good and exactly what Peter needs. He suctions his lips around the head, periodically licking at the tip, pace ever-increasing. No one else has ever treated him this way, put him before themselves and in this moment, it’s clear that Curt is only thinking about him, that it’s been that way for a while.

As his stomach muscles tighten, his fist starts to clench in his lover’s hair but he stops himself, stroking at his face instead.

“Curt… Oh my God, I’m gonna…”  


Curt looks up and meets his eyes before sucking particularly hard and Peter loses it. His knees tremble and his release comes out in spurts, some hitting the back of Curt’s throat, some painting his lips as he pulls back to better watch Peter come apart. He watches the rapid rise and fall of his diaphragm gradually show and meets Peter’s gaze as his eyes open. The younger man extends his hand and pulls Curt back to his feet.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss him. Curt indulges him for a while but then pulls back and grabs the nearest bottle of shampoo, squirting some onto his lover’s head.

“Hey,” Peter protests half-heartedly. “Lemme do you.”

He reaches down to Curt’s crotch but he backs away until he’s just out of reach.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, encouraging Peter to lather his hair. “You need to get washed and get some rest, then you can go back to saving the world.”

After a few minutes, they’re out of the shower and towelled dry, and Curt passes Peter a T-shirt and some boxers before guiding him to the bed. He gets under the covers with no protests as Curt closes the window blind.

“New York needs me,” he mumbles as Curt returns and pets his head.

“Yes. But you need rest, and you’re more important, to me at least. Besides, they need you at a hundred per cent, not all tired out. So sleep. I’m going to work on the antidote again.”

“’Kay.”  


He smiles before returning to his work desk, taking a seat and occasionally glancing over the stacks of paper at Peter as he snores softly.


End file.
